


Family Matters

by sub_textual



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, But it gets resolved don't worry, Internalized anti-incest, M/M, Nero accidentally walks in on his uncle and father in weird situations: the fic, Nero discovers his uncle and father are fucking each other: the fic, Nero should learn how to use a phone to call in advance, Nero's not down with the brotherfucking at first, Plot twist: there are feelings in this later, Poor Nero, THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CRACK I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, blood resonance, lots of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 18:17:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18834103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sub_textual/pseuds/sub_textual
Summary: Nero's life sucks: the fic.AKA: 4 Times Nero Read Too Much Into Things, and 1 Time He Didn'tTranslations:Chinese





	Family Matters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Auntarctica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auntarctica/gifts), [Demonized](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demonized/gifts), [sootandshadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sootandshadow/gifts), [TheDeepSeaWitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDeepSeaWitch/gifts), [syfyravalkyrie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/syfyravalkyrie/gifts), [fuuchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuuchan/gifts), [NewLakituPls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewLakituPls/gifts), [gothkaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothkaz/gifts), [iiintangible](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iiintangible/gifts), [glassthroat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassthroat/gifts), [Heading2DanVer (Cerberus_Brulee)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberus_Brulee/gifts), [TuonelianTerror](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuonelianTerror/gifts), [vorokis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vorokis/gifts), [devilsalwayscry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilsalwayscry/gifts), [PrettyArbitrary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyArbitrary/gifts), [nevilliven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevilliven/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [Family Matters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19041841) by [Shadbush](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadbush/pseuds/Shadbush), [sub_textual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sub_textual/pseuds/sub_textual)



>  
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> **  
> **  
> _Dedicated to the[Spardacest Discord Server](https://discord.gg/8X5nVW3)_  
>  
> 
> ****Note:** This fic is un-beta'd and mostly unedited, so if there are typos or grammatical issues, they will be caught later on!**

The thing is, Nero knows his family isn’t exactly normal.

There’s really nothing normal about finding out that the first time you met your uncle, you kicked him in the face, then threw him across a church and stabbed through the chest with his own damn sword. There’s also nothing normal about trying to save the world with a weird, skinny goth kid who had a penchant for poetry and a really cool tattoo, only for him to somehow magically merge with the demon you were trying to kill all along, and become your father.

Yeah, try saying _that_ three times fast.

There’s also nothing normal about the fact that his old man stole his damn arm, which he somehow regrew like a lizard. Or demon. Whatever. It’s kinda weird, but it’s mostly pretty cool, and Kyrie digs it, so Nero’s not really complaining about the whole arm thing, anymore.

What he _is_ really fucking annoyed about, however, is the fact that he keeps walking in on his uncle and father in the _weirdest_ fucking situations every time he decides to drop by Devil May Cry _._ It’s like they’re _trying_ to give him an aneurysm or something.

Nero sure as hell wouldn’t put it past Dante to do something like that, but his father doesn’t seem like the type who’d be into practical jokes. Not that Nero would know, seeing as Vergil isn’t exactly the kind of guy who’s into the whole father-son bonding thing. Most of the time, he just reads when Nero’s around and ignores him after they say hello. Or maybe they ignore each other in that awkward, I-know-you’re-there-but-I’m-not-gonna-talk-to-you kinda way.

It’s not like Nero can go up to him and be like, “Hey Dad, how’s it going? How’s that book? Anything good in there?” Because _that’d_ just be kinda pathetic. And he’s pretty sure Vergil would probably just try to skewer him with his sword or something for interrupting him. He’s not exactly mellow like V was. There’s a coldness to him, a frigidity that makes him look unapproachable and harsh. That makes it feel like Nero’s intruding on a pristine winter landscape that doesn’t need footsteps to fuck up the perfect layer of snow. V somehow just looked contemplative in that brooding sort of way; though, in retrospect, maybe it was just the hair.

In any case, it’s not like Nero really knows his father all that well, so he really hasn’t known what to make of the strange circumstances he has found himself in the past few times he’s visited.

 

*

 

The first time was shortly after they’d returned.

Nero was pissed as hell about the fact that his old man and uncle had finally decided to make it back to the human world after _months_ in the underworld. What really pissed him off, though, was the fact he heard it from _Nico_ , who heard it from Lady, as she was passing through town.

“Heeey, Nero! Y’hear your dad and Dante are back?” she asked, with a cigarette dangling out of her mouth, and her lips half-cocked with a grin, and all Nero could think was _what?_

Because no, he definitely did not hear. There wasn’t a fucking phone call. No post card. _Nothing._ Just a big, blank empty space with too many questions and the memory of the cold wind that blew through his hair as he watched everything he never knew he would have wanted fly down to Hell. It was the story of his fucking life, it seemed. Gain a family, only to lose it seconds later. Just fucking great.

And now they were back, and he had to hear about it third-hand.

From _Nico_ , of all people.

Yeah, Nero was steamed, and he wanted to make sure Dante and Vergil knew it.

So, he wasn’t exactly thinking when he more or less broke down the doors of Devil May Cry on a particularly hot, sunny afternoon in the summer.

“Hey, Dante! Where the fuck are you?” he yelled as he slammed past the doors, only to be greeted by what sounded suspiciously like a— wait, what the fuck? Was that a _moan?_ Nero blinked, starting to feel mighty uncomfortable, then slowly looked around the office even though his gut was telling him that _maybe_ he should just turn around and walk back the way he came from. Cuz, really, moans weren’t the kind of thing he should have been concerning himself with, when it came to Dante.

The sound came from upstairs.

But what was _really_ fucking weird was what happened next — Dante’s voice floated down the stairs with a groan, and he said, “Right there, Verge. _Right—_ there.”

Nero’s mind went strangely blank.

Out of some odd, morbid curiosity, or perhaps against his better judgment, Nero followed the sound of his uncle’s voice and came upon his bedroom door. He paused outside of it, and yeah, there really was no fucking doubt about it at all. Dante was _moaning_ and that was really fucking surreal and kind of gross, because Nero definitely did _not_ want to know what his uncle sounded like when— wait.

_Wait._

“ _Shit,_ Vergil—”

“Breathe, Dante. You can take it.”

Nero was moving before he realized what was happening. He kicked the damn door in, yelling, “Oh _hell_ no!”

There, sitting cross-legged on the bed, was Dante, with his shirt off. And right behind him, standing up, was Vergil, who was fully dressed, and digging a thumb right into his brother’s right shoulder, clearly giving him a massage.

They both stared at him for a beat, silently.

The air felt strangely still and far too warm. Stifling, really.

“What the fuck, Nero,” Dante growled out, confused, his brows drawing together as he scowled, and brushed Vergil off of him. He unfolded his legs from under him and started to get off the bed as Nero backed up, suddenly feeling like his face was probably the color of his uncle’s coat, which was hanging over the back of a chair.

He laughed, very nervously, raising a hand. “Uh… hey guys! How’s it going? Long...time… no… see?”

“You ever heard about _knocking?”_ Dante asked sourly as he reached for his shirt and yanked it on over his head. Behind him, Vergil sighed and rearranged his attire, then proceeded to come around the bed.

“I will leave you to this, brother,” Vergil said dryly to Dante, as he started to move past Nero, and just like that, Nero remembered why he had stormed into Devil May Cry in the first place. He hadn’t exactly been expecting to catch his father in a weird fucking situation like this, and that might have taken the edge off a little, but boy did Vergil know how to get under his skin.

 _Leave you to this,_ he said, like Nero was something that could just be casually tossed aside. Again.

Fuck that shit. Maybe Nero needed to punch him in the face again to remind him that he didn’t get to do whatever it was that he wanted because he felt like it. Instead, he decided to go the easier route and dragged up every bit of sarcasm that he could into his voice.

“Man, I’m disappointed! I don’t even get a ‘Hey son, how’s it going? Sorry for leaving you on the top of the damn Qliphoth and not letting you know I’m back?’ No? Come on, _Father_ , I thought you had better manners than that,” Nero quipped harshly, his eyes burning like blue fire and filled with just as much rage.

Vergil just looked at him very coolly. Assessing him like he was a stray cat or something equally as uninvited, that had just wandered into Dante’s fine establishment of business. “Hello, Nero. I suppose it has been a while, hasn’t it.”

“Y’know, kid, maybe if you didn’t just fucking _break my door_ , you woulda gotten an invitation to the welcome back party! But _nooo_ , you just _had_ to come barging in here like—” Dante abruptly stopped as he looked at Nero. The anger that had been on his face just a second ago simmered into something that looked more like concern. “Wait a minute, why _are_ you here?”

“Seriously?” Nero asked, exasperated. “You’re really gonna ask that.”

“Ah, so you came all this way,” Vergil says dryly, an echo of himself at the top of the tree, “just to see if we had made it back alive. Well, Nero, as you can clearly see, both Dante and I are quite well.”

“No, dumbass!” were the first words that came raging out of Nero’s mouth before he could stop them. “I came because you’re my fucking _family!”_

Vergil clearly hadn’t expected that. He blinked, and Nero could see, right there, in plain daylight, the tiniest crack in that glacier he called a face, and through it, there was something like the vaguest hint of uncertainty. Nero wanted to reach through that crack and drag it out to see what it really meant, but then Dante was right there with an arm looping around Vergil’s shoulders and looking at him with a somewhat sheepish expression on his face.

He genuinely looked a little contrite.

“Hey, kid, cut your old man some slack,” Dante said, his voice a whole lot softer than it had been just moments ago. “You can’t blame it all on him. You wanna blame someone for dropping the ball and not calling ya, you gotta blame me too.”

Nero looked at Dante incredulously, and he really did still want to punch him halfway across the room, but that urge was starting to fade, because really, how do you stay mad at someone who looked like he was feeling sorry? That just ain’t cool.

“Yeah, well,” he mumbled, as his anger slowly began to deflate like a balloon. “It was a pretty shitty thing to do.”

Dante and Vergil exchanged a look that Nero didn’t really understand, and then his uncle was brushing past his father and suddenly, he found himself being pulled into a — what the actual fuck. That was definitely a hug. Dante gave him a clap on his back, and then pulled away, leaving only his hand on his shoulder. “It’s good to see ya, kid,” he said with a soft grin, then squeezed Nero’s shoulder and dropped his hand. “Sorry we forgot to call, we were kinda busy tryin’ to get caught up with everything. Sorta just let it slip.”

Behind him, Vergil just silently watched like an unmoving statue, but Nero thought his dad almost looked a little… awkward. Like he wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do here. Nero would’ve liked an apology, but Vergil didn’t seem to be the apology-giving type, so Nero ended up just letting it go. After all, he didn’t _really_ come all this way, just to get into a fight again.

(Okay, so maybe he _did_ want to kick their asses, but that hug felt a whole lot better than getting a boot to the face.)

Just when he was about to say something like, yeah, it’s all good, don’t worry about it, Vergil looked him right in the eye and dipped his chin elegantly. Then he said, “Yes, Nero. It is good to see you. You look well.” And Nero felt a feeling he hadn’t expected at all — a surprising flash of warmth just under the ribs. It was the same feeling he used to get when he was younger, sitting around a kitchen table with Kyrie and Credo and their parents, sharing a warm meal together.

It was the feeling he always associated with _home_ and _family_ , and will you look at that, he actually had one now.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice suddenly a bit tight. “It’s good to see you too.” He paused, looked at Vergil cautiously, then added as an afterthought, almost, “Dad.”

 

 

*

 

The second time Nero found himself in an awkward situation was only a few weeks later.

He had just finished up a job not too far away, and thought it would be a pretty good idea to swing by and say hi to his uncle and his old man. Sure, they weren’t a perfect family, but they were still a family, and that had to count for something. There was that saying, after all, _Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way._ And while that was pretty damn true for the Spardas — huh, kinda weird that he could actually think of himself as a _Sparda_ now — at least Nero was trying to make some happy memories with his.

They sure as hell earned it.

And so, on a muggy, summer evening, just as the sun was beginning to dip beneath the horizon, he strolled up to Devil May Cry with a six pack of beer for Dante and a bottle of some sort of fancy red wine that Kyrie insisted he bring for his dad. He was about to enter, when he heard through the door a muffled sound that sounded suspiciously like a groan.

Nero frowned, and cracked the door open cautiously.

From his vantage point, he couldn’t see much — just Dante’s desk, with no Dante behind it.

“Fuck, Verge,” came Dante’s disembodied voice from the side of the room, and there was a sharp inhale of breath, followed by a groan. “It’s too damn tight.”

“Patience is a virtue, little brother,” Vergil said, sounding a little too amused. “Perhaps you should struggle a little less.”

“You’re really not helping this situation.”

“What would you have me do, Dante?”

“You could get me some fucking _lube!”_ Dante hollered, and at that point, Nero decided he had heard enough. He didn’t know _what_ kind of fucked up thing was happening in there, and though he really didn’t want to find out, he sure as hell wasn’t gonna let it continue.

He took a deep breath to steel himself and then walked into Devil May Cry, eyes sweeping across the room and landing on _— oh god what the fuck_ — that was definitely his dad, pressed flush against his uncle, who was bent over the pool table. Vergil was leaning over Dante, a hand outstretched and wrapped around Dante’s forearm, which appeared to be…

Wait.

Nero squinted.

Was Dante’s hand stuck in the fucking hole?

Nero let out a sound that was half a laugh and half a snort, giving away his presence.

Two sets of blue eyes landed right on him.

Vergil straightened up and turned to face him as Dante scowled, red-faced and clearly annoyed, and also completely unable to straighten up, which could only mean that he definitely _was_ stuck in the goddamn table.

“Y’know,” Nero said with a shiteating grin. “I’ve seen you get into some pretty tight spots before, but this really takes the cake.”

“Oh, shut up,” Dante groused sourly. “You gonna come over here and help, or are ya just gonna stand there and gawk?”

“Awfully demanding, isn’t he,” Vergil commented, his voice as dry as a desert.

“Yeah, it’s like he doesn’t know good he’s got it.”

“Hey! I’m right here, y’know—”

“He always was a very spoiled child,” said Vergil, as he left Dante at the table, and then approached Nero, looking at the bottle of wine with some curiosity. Nero offered it up to his father.

“Fuck you, Vergil! You were just as spoiled!”

“Oh yeah, my girlfriend, Kyrie, wanted me to bring this for you,” he explained as Vergil looked over the bottle, turning it in his hands.

“Bordeaux. A fine choice,” Vergil said, and Nero could _swear_ that there was a look of approval in his eyes, as his lips formed the faintest hint of a smile. “Thank you, Nero. Do send my regards to your beloved.”

“Hello? Some help here?” Dante waved his free arm in their direction, as though it might somehow distract them from their conversation.

“Yeah, no problem. Anytime,” Nero said with a grin.

“Shall we open this bottle?” Vergil asked, though somehow Nero got the sense that it was meant to be rhetorical, as his dad was already heading in the direction of the wet bar. “I procured some good cheese earlier this morning. I believe it would accompany this wine quite well.”

“Oh, don’t you dare—” Dante was saying, completely incredulous as he stared at them. Nero almost felt bad, but it was honestly pretty damn funny, watching his uncle struggle to get his hand out of the pool table. He really didn’t know how the fuck Dante managed to get it wedged in there like that, but the result was spectacularly hilarious for everyone other than Dante, who was starting to look a little worried. “Verge? Nero?” He laughed, a little awkwardly. “Guys, you’re not really gonna leave me like this, are ya?”

Apparently, his old man had decided that wine and cheese were more important on his list of priorities than helping to extricate his uncle from the pool table.

Man, Vergil was _cold._ But Nero thought it was actually pretty fucking great for once.

“Yeah, wine and cheese sounds pretty good!” Nero said brightly, completely ignoring Dante, since apparently that was the tacit understanding of the evening.

“Oh, just you wait,” Dante growled out after a moment, as he watched Vergil uncork the wine with a twist of the hand. “I’m gonna kick your ass when I get outta here. _Both_ your asses.”

“You can try, little brother,” Vergil said far too lightly, without even sparing Dante a glance, as he set the cork down on the wet bar, and then began to pour wine into a glass. “But, that would require resolving your current predicament, and I simply fail to see how you’ll be able to do so, without breaking your… charming billiards table.”

“Hey, it’s _vintage_ , don’t insult it. You’ll hurt its feelings.”

“How did you manage to put up with this the entire time you were in the underworld?” Nero asked as he accepted the glass of wine his father offered to him.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Dante complained loudly.

Vergil’s lips formed a small smirk. “What made you think I put up with it?”

Nero looked at Dante, who looked back at him, exasperated. He grinned at his uncle. “Yeah, I don’t think I’d put up with it either.”

The look Vergil gave him then was _definitely_ fatherly approval.

 

*

 

The third time Nero accidentally stumbled upon his father and uncle in a weirdly uncomfortable situation was on a cool autumn afternoon.

It had been a few months since he’d last seen Dante and Vergil. With the orphanage growing, his increasingly endless responsibilities seemed to get in the way of being able to drop by to spend some quality family time. He had considered bringing Kyrie along, but he wasn’t actually sure if that was a good idea. After all, the one and only time he really got to bond with his dad was when Dante had his hand stuck in a pool table.

They shared a bottle of wine, ate some cheese, and then Vergil planted himself on the couch with a book. There wasn’t much talking after that. Nero ended up having to help Dante get himself unstuck from the pool table, after he got sick of hearing him complain.

He didn’t really know how Vergil would take bringing his girlfriend to meet him, and it was kinda weird anyway — the whole prospect of him having to say, “Hey Kyrie, meet my dad. Y’know, the bastard who stole my arm, and became this demon that wanted to destroy the world, but don’t worry, he’s cool now ‘cuz I kicked his ass so he went to the underworld to save the human world from the damn mess he created.”

Yeah, somehow he didn’t think that would go over all too well with her.

So, here he was again, with another bottle of wine Kyrie picked out, and a bottle of Jack for Dante. He pushed open the door cautiously, and sighed with relief when it appeared to be quiet inside. No strange groaning. No weird sounds. No freakily awkward-sounding conversations.

“Dante?” he called, as the first floor seemed empty, though Dante could just be in the bathroom. Or maybe he went out but forgot to lock up the office. “You here?”

As he set down the bottles on the desk, a thump came from upstairs.

Something rattled.

Nero frowned and tensed as he listened a little more carefully, his hunter senses coming alive. You never know when a demon might appear out of nowhere and try to smack you in the face or cut off your head with a massive pair of scissors.

There was a clang, another thump, and the sound of something being dragged across the floor.

Nero’s eyes narrowed and he reached for Red Queen, unstrapping her from his back and tightening his fist around her hilt. He quietly made his way towards the source of the sound, which appeared to be coming from Dante’s bedroom.

Nero carefully ascended the stairs, avoiding the creaky steps, and stopped just outside of Dante’s door. Without his devil arm, he couldn’t know for sure what was behind the door anymore, but what he did know was this: if some demon decided to try and sneak out of hell and was waiting for Dante to return, unaware, they sure as hell had another thing coming.

There was another thump, and then Dante cursed and Nero let out the breath he was holding.

“It’s not going in,” Dante complained, and then groaned in frustration, and all Nero could think was _oh god, not again._

“I told you not to force it, Dante,” Vergil said flatly, sounding very unimpressed. “Yet, once again, you foolishly rushed in blindly, and here we are.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t really expect it to be this tight! It’s been damn long since I’ve done anything like this, okay? Cut me some slack.”

“What you need is patience and discipline, but you are not very well-endowed with either.”

“Are you saying I’m not well-endowed? I’m _wounded,_ brother.”

Nero stifled a laugh behind his hand.

“Oh,” Vergil all but breathed out, and there was a hint of a smile in his voice. “You know quite well where you are well-endowed, little brother, but it certainly isn’t in the arenas of patience nor discipline, of which you have very little.”

What the hell was _that_ supposed to mean? There was no way his dad was making a comment about his uncle’s junk… right? Or _was_ he talking about Dante’s dick? Did brothers even do that? Or was this some kind of a weird, demonic twin thing?

It wasn’t like Nero really understood their bond. Half the time it seemed like they were trying to kill each other and couldn’t stand one another, but the other half of the time it seemed as though they couldn’t live without the other. It was the strangest fucking thing, really.

Kinda like the comment about Dante’s dick.

Ugh. Nero _really_ wished he could’ve lived his entire life without ever knowing the size of Dante’s cock. That sure woulda been a nice thing to not have to think about.

Behind the door, Dante groaned low with frustration, cursing under his breath. Nero could hear Vergil’s sigh of exasperation from where he stood in the hall.

“Dante. I told you to stop trying to force it in. It isn’t going to work.”

“Let me just try a little more, come on, Verge—”

“ _Dante_ —”

There was the sound of grunting, a hitch of breath.

“Dammit!” Dante complained loudly, sounding a little out of breath. And then he said, “I told you we shoulda fuckin’ used lube!” and all Nero could think was _what the fuck?_ “Lube’ll make it slide in real nice—”

“Fine, Dante.” Vergil sounded completely resigned. “We’ll do it your way.”

“Finally, bro! Some common sense! Hand me that bottle of lube over there, will ya?”

Lube. _Again._

Why the hell was it _always the goddamn lube?_ And more to the point — why did Dante have so much lube lying around in the first place?!

Wait. Nero _really_ didn’t want to know the answer to that.

He was so fucking tired of constantly walking into this twisted shit. He had no idea _what_ was going on behind that door, and it wasn’t like Dante had his hand stuck in another pool table, after all — seeing as the only thing in his bedroom was his _bed_ and his dresser and nothing at all that would require anything like _lube._

On one hand, his father and uncle could possibly be doing unspeakable things behind that door. On the other, this was the third time Nero had walked in on a situation where the only family he had sounded like they were fucking, and the last two times, it was completely innocuous, so this had to be completely innocent, right?

“Only one way to find out,” he muttered under his breath, and stepped forward, giving the door a sharp rap with the knuckles to announce his presence, before pushing it open. “Man, what the hell are you guys even do...ing…”

The words died on his tongue as Nero stared at the absurdity before him.

Among a pile of torn up cardboard boxes, styrofoam, and pieces of wood, sat Dante and Vergil on the floor. It looked as though they were attempting to assemble what appeared to be a very complicated looking bed, and Dante had two metal rods sitting on his lap and a bottle of lube in his hand. He had apparently squirted some of the stuff out, and there was a glob of lube on his bare palm, glistening obscenely in the sunlight.

Dante stared at him for a beat, and then grinned, raising his clean hand to wave. “Hey kid.”

“Ah, Nero,” Vergil said as a way of greeting. “Just in time. You seem to be quite handy. I assume you have some experience building furniture.”

Building furniture.

They were _building furniture._

Who the fuck needed _lube_ to build furniture!?

“Uh…” said Nero, staring at Dante as his uncle eyed the hole on one of the metal pieces he was holding in his other hand, and then started to reach his lubed-up fingers towards it.

Nero finally had enough.

“Dude, what the fuck, don’t put lube in that thing!”

“It’s too damn tight! This won’t fit!” Dante picked up one of the metal pieces and gestured with it. “What the hell do ya expect me to do, huh?” To his credit, his lubed-up hand had paused before it met its target.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe you can try _reading the instructions?”_

Both Dante and Vergil looked at him blankly.

“There are instructions?” Dante asked, looking completely surprised.

Vergil frowned, and then his gaze slid to Dante. The look he gave his brother at that moment felt downright _scathing._ And yeah, maybe Nero couldn’t really fault his dad for not knowing about instructions when it came to furniture assembly — after all, the guy literally came back from the dead, and it wasn’t like furniture assembly existed in the underworld.

But Dante — he had no excuse.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” muttered Nero as he walked into the room, set down Red Queen, and then began searching through the pile of cardboard and brown paper. “What’s the matter, Dante? You hit your head this morning when you woke up and killed your one brain cell or something?”

“Hey, you can’t blame me for not knowing that there were _instructions!_ It’s not like it was on the back of the box!”

“I assume the instructions were inside the box, Dante,” Vergil said dryly.

Dante laughed somewhat sheepishly. “Uh… whoops?”

Vergil sighed and shook his head, pressing his fingers against his brow delicately. “Little brother… you really are such an idiot sometimes.”

“I’m not an idiot! I just...didn’t know there were instructions, bro!”

Sometimes, Nero really wondered how they were even related.

 

 

*

Nero really didn’t know why it was that he kept on walking in on Dante and Vergil in the oddest situations.

He also really didn’t know what to make of their relationship — not that he really had anything to judge it by, seeing as they were the only twins he knew; and the only _demon_ twins for that matter. It wasn’t like he really knew what a relationship between twins should be like, or how they should properly act around one another.

This was, apparently, his new normal, and while it sure as hell wasn’t very normal at all, Nero could at least count his blessings that it didn’t concern some sort of nefarious bullshit involving the underworld.

He could deal with his uncle’s weird penchant for solving everything with lube and his surprisingly intimate relationship with his father.

It would just take some getting used to, was what he told himself, the fourth time he found himself outside Devil May Cry, listening to what sounded like grunts coming through the goddamn door.

He raised his eyes to the heavens, his shoulders slumping in resignation as he sighed.

What on earth could Dante have gotten himself into this time? Was it going to require lube? Should he have brought lube instead instead of beer?

Nero rolled his eyes and let himself in, pushing open the doors.

The greeting that was on the tip of his tongue fell right out of his mouth as he stared at his very shirtless uncle and equally shirtless father grappling on the floor in front of Dante’s desk. He had walked in just as Vergil flipped their positions — Dante immediately wrapped his legs tight around his dad’s waist, and Vergil planted his hands flat on the floor, caging Dante in as he loomed over his twin. Their eyes were fixed on the other, breaths heavy as Vergil hovered, scant inches above Dante’s face.

It was weirdly sexual in a way Nero was sure it wasn’t supposed to be.

“Uh…” said Nero awkwardly.

Dante inhaled in sharp surprise, and then two pairs of blue eyes snapped over to him. Vergil’s brow creased slightly as he coolly looked at him, while Dante’s eyes flashed with something Nero didn’t entirely understand. It almost felt like a battle had suddenly made its way into his uncle’s gaze — Nero could feel the heat of it prickling up his spine, boiling in his blood, and it almost made him instinctively want to reach for Red Queen, which was the craziest thing, because why the fuck would Dante suddenly want to fight him?

For a moment, Nero almost felt like he was interrupting something he wasn’t supposed to be.

But just like that, Dante’s gaze suddenly slipped off him and he grappled Vergil expertly, taking advantage of his older brother’s attention on Nero to switch their positions. Vergil hit the ground with an _oof_.

“Ha!” Dante yelled triumphantly, slapping the floor near Vergil’s head with his hand, and then straightened up. “That’s one for Dante! Shouldn’t have gotten distracted, brother.”

“That hardly counts, Dante,” Vergil demurred as Dante dismounted him. He curled a finger in accusation and pointed it at him. “You cheated.”

“You’re just a sore loser for letting yourself get distracted,” Dante hit back as he looked at Nero with a grin. “Right, kid?”

“Hey, I’m not getting in the middle of this,” Nero said, and raised his hands defensively — along with his offerings of beer and wine.

“A wise decision, Nero,” Vergil said, as he reached up to take the hand Dante had offered him, fingers clasping around Dante’s forearm — and just like that, Dante was flipped onto his back again. This time, Vergil pinned him with his legs wrapped around Dante’s neck, pulling back on his arm to ensure that he wouldn’t be able to get much leverage.

Dante struggled, thrashing around on the floor, trying to use his legs to twist out of Vergil’s hold, but Nero knew that the fight was over the moment Vergil ruthlessly put Dante into submission with that particular hold.

There was no way Dante was fighting his way out of that without a weapon, or a devil trigger.

Eventually, Dante gave up and slapped the ground twice.

Vergil relinquished his hold on him, and Dante sat up, scowling as he rubbed at his arm with his hand. “You damn well near broke my arm.”

“You deserved it,” Vergil declared, as he picked himself up the ground, and then helped Dante up as well.

“How the hell did I deserve it?!”

“You cheated.”

“It wasn’t cheating!”

Nero sure was glad that what he had walked in on was apparently just a brotherly round of wrestling.

Okay, so maybe it was kinda weird that they were shirtless, but that wasn’t all too bad, even if it sure looked a little too intimate for comfort when he first walked in.

In retrospect, he felt a little guilty that he kept on jumping to some sort of dirty conclusion, when Dante and Vergil hadn’t done anything at all that would have warranted that kind of indictment of their characters. In fact, if anyone needed a good soul searching, it was Nero.

After all, he was the perverted asshole who kept imagining that his uncle and father were up to no good, when they clearly weren’t up to anything at all, other than trying to live what appeared to be surprisingly mundane lives in the human world.

Dante and Vergil had lost each other for twenty-four years, after all.

Who the hell was he to judge the awkward situations they found themselves in, when he didn’t even know what kind of a relationship brothers should have to begin with?

 

*

 

At some point, Nero came to the conclusion that his family was just kinda weird, and decided to accept his new normal of hearing oddly erotic noises every time he chose to visit Devil May Cry.

Some families fought, other families laughed.

Nero’s family apparently grunted and made all sorts of weird sounds while trying to change a lightbulb.

 

*

 

The thing is, it’s one thing to accept the idea that your family is kinda weird, and another thing to actually have to deal with that weirdness in real life.

It’s a lot easier when it’s theoretical to think that you might one day get used to hearing your uncle make unnaturally lewd sounds during completely boring situations. But in practice, it’s a whole lot harder.

So, when Nero finds himself outside of Devil May Cry with some surprise Thai take-out and a bottle of wine, all he can do is try to remind himself that nothing particularly nasty is happening, as he listens to the unmistakable sounds of loud, enthusiastic groans reverberating through the door.

Dante’s probably getting a great neck massage or shoulder rub from Vergil, or maybe they’re grappling again and it’s really intense. Maybe that groaning’s just from them trying to struggle for dominance as they fight again, since apparently that is a thing that brothers do.

Yeah, that’s probably the case, Nero decides, as he pushes in the door.

“Fuck Verge— _Fuck—!_ Just like that, just—” Dante gasps out loudly the moment Nero steps inside.

Nero’s certain that he’s going to see his uncle getting some kind of knot worked out of his shoulder, but when his eyes sweep across the room, what he sees instead is this: Dante, flushed and on his knees on the pool table, naked and covered in a sheen of sweat. His head is held down under the unyielding grip of Vergil’s hand, which clasps the back of his neck. His cheek is pressed against the green felt of the pool table, his fingers clutching the edge so hard, his knuckles have turned white. 

Vergil kneels behind him on the pool table, pounding into him viciously.

Nero’s eyes widen in shock as he watches his father, who is still mostly dressed in his vest and a pair of pants he’d opened in the front, brutally fuck his _uncle_. _  
_

Nero’s entire head goes blank.

The image sears into his mind, rips through him like a fucking meteor slamming straight into his face. He’s hit by it suddenly — the pungent scent of sweat and sex, the boiling arousal screaming in the resonance of their shared blood, which pulses with the completely unnatural feeling of lust and power and need and a strange, ravenous hunger Nero had never felt outside of the infernal grip of the devil trigger.

This is the most fucked up, sick thing he’d ever seen, and the worst part of it all isn’t that he’d walked in on his father fucking his uncle.

The worst part is that they made him _feel_ it too.

He didn’t ask for this, didn’t ask to walk in on them.

Sure as hell didn’t ask to know how it _feels._

It’s a complete violation of his boundaries.

“ _Oh, hell no!”_ Nero roars, completely outraged, the moment he comes back to his senses, as he drops the bag of take-out and the beer on the ground. “What the actual fuck?!”

Vergil and Dante abruptly freeze, and Dante gasps as his head whips up and he stares at Nero with eyes that are lustblown and wide with shock.

Vergil levels a look across the way to Nero. His gaze is surprisingly calm and frigid, even if his cheeks are slightly flushed from the exertion of fucking _his younger brother_. Nero can feel his father assessing him, as if trying to decide what exactly he should do in such a compromised position.

“Vergil— Verge,” Dante whispers, looking over his shoulder at his older brother. “Maybe we should—”

“Yes, brother,” Vergil responds smoothly, his voice quiet and low, his eyes never once snapping off Nero. One corner of his mouth curls up in the slightest smirk, and he suddenly pounds forward again with an unexpected, violent snap of the hips, ripping a cry out of Dante’s throat, forcing him to claw at the the felt beneath him as Vergil starts to fuck him again, unrelenting and steady and hard.

Nero’s blood boils.

He sees red.

Without another word, he whirls and slams his way out the door.

 

*

 

“Verge— we can’t, we need to stop,” Dante gasps out, his beautiful body shaking as he tries to push himself up, struggling futilely under Vergil’s iron grip. “We need— oh fuck—oh _fuck, oh fuck—_ ”

“I determine what we need,” Vergil snarls out with a low breath as he tightens his grip on the nape of Dante’s neck, stroking his fingers over the skin. As expected, little brother submits, resistance ebbing from his body as he arches back into each violent thrust and accepts the judgment Vergil has laid upon him.

Vergil had not expected for them to be interrupted — certainly, not by his son.

In retrospect, it would have only been a matter of time before the truth was eventually uncovered. It would have been impossible to keep it buried, hidden from Nero like a shameful secret, when there was never anything to be ashamed of at all.

Their love is as beautiful as it is obscene, as sacred as it is profane. It is everything that they draw breath for, everything they have ever fought for. It defines the very essence of who and what they both are. What they have always been.

There is no shame in loving his brother; no shame in his brother loving him in return.

But Nero could not possibly understand. The look of shocked dismay on his face and the revulsion in his eyes had made that perfectly clear.

Vergil had not wanted Dante to see it — the disgust boiling in Nero’s eyes; it would have broken him to be judged so harshly for simply loving his brother, for surrendering to the irresistible call of their bodies to be joined as one.

The decision to shamelessly fuck Dante as Nero watched had been an easy one, however Machiavellian it may have been — burning what love his son might have had for him to ashes, in favor of protecting his little brother.

He would do it again, without question.

“Vergil…” Dante cries out softly as he trembles around him, his voice calling Vergil back to him as surely as his body calls for his cock. “Nero… what are we going to—” Vergil doesn’t let Dante finish his thought. He plunges deep into his brother without mercy, burning Dante’s mind clean with the ruthlessness of pleasure more powerful than the sun.

“Dante,” Vergil whispers out in a low rasp, as he feels the dark storm of his climax approaching, the heat of it growing unbearable as Dante cries out, his body shaking with wild paroxysms, violently convulsing around what fills him.

When they come, it is a thing of brutal beauty — glorious and perfect, shameless and full of breathless wonder and boundless joy. It is the answer to a prayer, a benediction. Salvation in an embrace.

Nero could never understand.

How could he? He is mostly human, and their love transcends the limits of human comprehension. It was never meant for humans to understand.

 

*

 

In the gilded aftermath, Vergil would have been content to gather up his brother in his arms and take him to soak in a leisurely bath. Perhaps he could run his hands over the divine structures of his brother’s body, and tease Dante until he was hard and wanting again.

But instead, Dante looks at him and tells him, “You need to talk to Nero.”

“I don’t think he wants to talk to me very much right now, Dante.”

“He’s still here, Vergil.”

Indeed, Vergil can feel Nero’s presence outside. When he focuses, he can feel the conflict boiling in his son’s blood — confusion; uncertainty; horror that feels like disgust. Beneath it all is a sea of anger, teeming with rage.

There is no question that Nero does not approve of the relationship he has with Dante.

Vergil fails to see the point in speaking with someone who so clearly has already made up his mind; surely, this conversation will be a futile debate on the ethics of romantic and sexual morality. Nero will rage and scream and look quite betrayed, outraged by the idea that his father would dare to love his uncle in a manner so unnatural for humans.

He will refuse to understand.

He will be incapable of it.

But Vergil knows his brother well, and he knows Dante will not relent until he has already attempted to speak with Nero, at least once.

“Very well,” Vergil finally assents. “I’ll speak with him.”

 

*

 

What the fuck.

What the _actual fuck._

Nero really doesn’t know what to think. He can barely even figure out how he _feels_ , when the remnants of emotions that aren’t at all his still skirt along the edges of his memory. It had been so intense — almost unbearably so, as he stood there frozen, shocked into stillness by the lurid sight before him, by the overwhelming feeling of it all.

He can’t really believe that his father is fucking his uncle.

Oh god.

 _His father is fucking his uncle._ His own _brother._ His _twin._

Here he thought that he just had a weird family, but it turns out, his family is downright _sick_.

It’s not right. None of this is right. Nero knows that in his heart of hearts, but deep down in his bones, in his blood, he can’t seem to reconcile what he knows with what he feels — the unnatural rightness of it all, how perfect it had felt.

It isn’t unlike how he feels when he’s with Kyrie, the unearthly calm he finds with her.

Though they haven’t actually made love yet, Nero knows that his hunger for her is as deep as his love. How incredibly happy she makes him, just with a smile. Being near her is like touching heaven. Having her in his arms makes him feel like everything is right with the world, and like maybe he might just be the luckiest man alive.

It was unmistakable — in the heat of the moment, as Nero stood there inundated by everything he wasn’t supposed to feel at all, underneath the lust and the arousal, the hunger and the need, was that feeling. That love. Burning brighter than anything. It felt as inevitable as the rising of the sun, as relentless and as powerful as a devil trigger.

And yet, it’s wrong. It goes against human nature; it breaks the very laws of kinship.

He doesn’t understand how they can do it — how they can look at each other and not be completely revulsed by it. How they can love each other so deeply, so violently. How they can need each other the way he needs Kyrie.

He leans against the worn brick of the building’s exterior, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“God dammit!”

He turns and punches the wall.

Brick crumbles beneath his knuckles.

He wants to kill something. Sure would be great if a demon came along so he can rip its fucking head off its body. Give himself something else to think about or feel other than that ghost feeling.

It’s at that very moment that the front door opens and Vergil steps out, fully dressed in his perfectly pressed frock, all of his clothing arranged just so.

“Finally finished fucking your brother, huh?” Nero spits the words out viciously.

“It seems the timing of your visit was… less than ideal,” Vergil says, without a hint of an apology in his voice.

“Or you could’ve, y’know, _not fucked your brother_ with the door unlocked!” Or at all, for that matter.

“Ah. So that is what you are so angry about,” says Vergil dryly, his eyes as unreadable as his expression. “Is that why you are throwing a tantrum, Nero?”

The _bastard._

“I’ll show you tantrum,” Nero snarls as he immediately launches himself at his father, winging at him with Red Queen wildly, with every intent of sending his old man sailing right back in through the doors of Devil May Cry. Instead, he finds himself flying as Vergil expertly counters, sending him skidding back across cobblestone with a sure strike of Yamato’s sheath.

Nero bristles with rage as he narrows his eyes and glares at his father, who straightens up, his brows drawn in a frown.

“ _Enough_ ,” Vergil commands.

“Oh, fuck you!” Nero yells. “You don’t get to decide when it’s enough!”

He charges again, and this time the edge of his blade connects against Yamato’s, steel biting against steel. Vergil stares down on him, his eyes hard, his mouth pressed into a firm line, as Nero grits his teeth and growls, fighting for all he’s worth.

Vergil shifts his weight slightly and before Nero can even react, he goes flying a second time, this time bouncing hard off the cobblestone and rolling before he comes to a stop in a pile of trash. He curses and picks himself up and slams the business end of Red Queen down onto the ground, revving her up.

He’s gonna make his old man pay for that.

He tightens his grip on Red Queen and charges, swinging wild and sure, only to find himself suddenly face to face with a furious Dante who snarls as he slams his eponymous devil arm so hard against the edge of Red Queen, Nero feels the shockwave go all the way down to his bones.

_“Calm the fuck down, Nero!”_

Nero glares at Dante, his eyes burning with rage boiling over. “Don’t tell me to calm down!”

“Don’t do this, kid,” Dante pleads with him, his voice strained, his eyes flashing like lightning in the midst of a storm. “I don’t want to fight you. Come on, we don’t gotta do it this way. We’re family, remember?”

“Family.” Nero laughs in disbelief, a single clipped sound. “ _Family?_ You and Vergil are family, but you’re _fucking each other!”_

“That’s right, Nero,” says Vergil, as calm as can be, his hand curling over Dante’s shoulder as he pulls him back, forcing him to disengage. “We are, as you say, ‘fucking’ each other.”

“But it’s wrong,” says Nero, as the fight slowly ebbs out of him, replaced with something far more resigned, far more dismayed. He takes a step back. “You _know_ it’s wrong. How sick do you have to be to — to fuck your own brother? You’re _twins_.”

Dante tenses, his eyes flashing with surprise and hurt. He looks wounded in a way Nero hadn’t expected, like he actually gives a shit what Nero thinks. Like it actually matters to him, when Nero always thought that nothing mattered to Dante.

But that look is gone as quickly as it’d carved across his expression.

It’s replaced with an irreverent smirk and a shrug.

“What can I say kid,” says Dante as he steps back as well, his sword disappearing back into the aether where it had come from. “Guilty as charged.”

Vergil’s grip tightens on Dante’s shoulder as he draws his brother back at the same time as he steps forward, placing himself between Nero and Dante. He looks at Dante, who is still disheveled, though he’d managed to pull his rumpled clothes on hastily. “Go back inside, brother. Get cleaned up. I’ll speak with Nero.”

“But…” Dante looks at Nero, uncertainty suddenly flashing in his eyes, as sudden and as unexpected as the knot Nero feels in the pit of his stomach.

Nero watches mutely as Vergil reaches a hand up and cups Dante’s face, turning his gaze back to him. “Dante, he is my son. This is my responsibility.”

Dante frowns and swallows visibly, as he nods. “Okay,” he says reluctantly, then glances at Nero again, before turning and walking back inside. There’s a heaviness to his step that Nero had never quite noticed before, and it makes the knot grow tighter. He doesn’t understand what to make of this all — why he’s suddenly feeling _guilty_.

“Nero,” says Vergil quietly. Nero looks at him, feeling unsure and unsteady. “Earlier, you called the nature of my relationship with Dante ‘wrong.’ But tell me this — why is it wrong for me to love my brother?”

Nero hadn’t expected Vergil to ask something like that. He’s caught completely off guard.

“I never said it was wrong to love him,” Nero insists.

“But you believe that it is wrong for me to fuck him.”

“Well… yeah,” Nero frowns. “It’s not— that’s not what you’re supposed to do with your brother, I’m pretty sure.”

“I understand Kyrie is your sister. Yet, you love her, and wish to consummate that love with her, do you not?”

Nero sputters. “What?! You can’t compare me and Kyrie with you and Dante! It’s not the same!”

“It isn’t? Did you not grow up with her? Share a home with her? Did she not call you brother?” Vergil arches a brow slightly, and Nero finds himself feeling like he’s flailing in the dark, completely unmoored without any sight of the shore.

Kyrie did call him brother, long ago, when they were children.

“That was before we—” Before they fell in love and decided that their relationship was far more than that of brother and sister — which they weren’t really, because Nero was adopted, and they didn’t share the same blood.

“Before you realized how much you loved each other?”

Nero nods.

“And yet, she _was_ your sister, and you were her brother. You do not deny this.”

“But we don’t share the same blood.”

“What does blood matter?” Vergil asks. “Why should it matter? These arbitrary moral laws you speak of, which determine right or wrong, were written by humans. But, we are not human, Nero. Even if we were, I believe Dante and I would still find our way to one another.”

It’s a hard pill to swallow. Difficult to understand.

But Nero would be hard pressed to deny that he isn’t starting to feel a little more sympathetic, like maybe he might be able to reconcile the wrongness of his belief with the rightness of his emotions.

“How can you believe that?”

“Because Dante and I complete one another,” Vergil says quite simply. “He is the other half of my soul, and I, his. We were born for the sole purpose of loving the other. I do not expect you to understand, Nero. But I ask that you try.”

Nero might not ever fully understand what it’s like to have half a soul, or how two brothers could ever embrace each other as lovers. But he does understand what it means to love someone, and how it feels to be swept up by that love. He knows what it’s like to love someone so much that you’re willing to just about anything in the name of that love.

And he knows how he felt the moment he stood and witnessed the obscene love between his father and his uncle, and felt it in the resonance of his blood.

“Okay,” Nero eventually concedes. “Okay. I can’t say I really get it, but I’ll try my best to understand.”

Vergil looks surprised — maybe even a touch relieved, like he hadn’t actually expected Nero would want to try to understand. His expression softens, and he relaxes visibly. “Thank you, Nero. That’s all I can really ask for.”

“Yeah, don’t sweat it,” Nero mumbles awkwardly as he rubs at the back of his head. He glances at the door, and then down the street. “I guess I’ll go then, since, uh, you probably gotta, y’know.” He coughs a little. “Clean up.”

Vergil huffs a quiet sound of amusement. “I suggest that you call in advance, the next time you’d like to visit.”

“Yeaaaaah,” Nero agrees all too readily. “I kinda need brain bleach for what I walked in on. Man, couldn’t you guys have at least locked the _door_ or something?” He suddenly realizes what he’d asked his old man, who just looks at him kind of flatly. “Actually, scratch that, nevermind. Forget I asked that. Just lock the door… uh… next… time…”

It’s fucking surreal, talking to his dad about fucking his uncle.

Nero definitely would not recommend this to anyone.

Vergil just looks vaguely amused. “Don’t worry, Nero. I’m sure Dante and I will exercise more discretion going forward.”

“...yeah, can we just… stop talking about this now? I mean, it’s already pretty weird, since you’re my dad and all, and I really didn’t wanna know about your sex life to begin with.”

Vergil’s brow quirks up slightly, and then he smiles. “Very well. We won’t ever have to talk about this again.”

 

*

 

Dante stands in the shower for what feels like forever.

He can’t shake the look that was in Nero’s eyes — the revulsion that had curled his lip, the disgust that he heard so clearly in the kid’s voice.

_How sick do you have to be to — to fuck your own brother?_

It’s how he used to feel about himself when he first reunited with Vergil, and all he could feel was the unbearable desire in his blood, the need that swept in like a fever, igniting everything inside of him until he was burning with it. It had been so easy to fall into his brother’s arms in the end, to fall into his kiss. To want him so desperately, while knowing with every shred of himself that it was wrong — unnatural.

He wasn’t supposed to want his brother, to need him in such a way, and yet he couldn’t stop himself. It was like he was driven to it by some unseen gravity. Vergil was a force of nature, and it was all Dante could do to open up and let him in.

And in those beautiful, first moments as he was clutched in his brother’s arms, as he rediscovered how it felt to be whole and alive, he knew that he would never truly want or need anything else.

But it was a sickness. It was wrong.

And some part of Dante wished he could stop it. Wished he could have been born whole. Wished he could stop loving Vergil, stop needing him so much. Wished that it was something he could simply choose.

But his love for his brother had never been a choice.

They were made for each other.

_You know it’s wrong._

It was like Nero had forgotten the past five years. Like it didn’t matter to him at all — everything they’d ever been through together, all the battles that they fought side-by-side. Dante had even allowed Nero to open his own branch of Devil May Cry. They were family even before Nero really knew the truth of their blood.

But just now, Nero had looked at him like he did all those years ago in that church — like he was a monster.

Dante is suddenly filled with regret. He should’ve known to be more careful around Nero. He should’ve expected the kid to come visit, especially when he had started to drop by on a whim. He never should’ve let himself get so carried away that he forgot to lock the front door — Nero should have never found out.

Dante has always known the kid would never be able to understand, let alone accept the truth.

“I can hear you thinking from out here.” Vergil’s voice wafts over the shower curtain and Dante startles slightly. He reaches for the shampoo and squeezes out a good amount into his palm.

“Wow, I didn’t know thinking about your foofy shampoo would be so loud,” drawls Dante over the roar of the shower.

Vergil doesn’t say anything in return. Not immediately, anyway. Dante can hear his brother undressing, the sound of his belt clinking. Moments later, Vergil pulls the shower curtain open and steps in, closing the distance between them.

Dante busies himself with lathering his hair up instead of turning toward his brother.

“Look at me, Dante.”

“Yeah, hold on a sec,” Dante says with his fingers buried in frothy hair.

His brother sighs behind him, and Dante feels Vergil’s fingers on his tense shoulders, a moment before he’s turned. Vergil’s hands travel up and gently knock his fingers out of his hair, taking over for him as he massages the shampoo into his locks, slowly working his fingers over his scalp.

Dante almost groans. It feels so fucking good. Vergil’s always been damn good at this.

“Dante,” says Vergil softly, as he works on massaging his head. “You know that Nero didn’t mean what he said, right?”

Dante can’t stop the way his brows flinch slightly and his eyes close. “Do we really have to talk about this?”

“You’re upset.”

“I’m fine.”

“You aren’t.”

Dante doesn’t understand why Vergil can’t just drop it. He’d rather not think about the fact that his nephew thinks the only blood relatives he has are a couple of sick fucks who are into fucking one another — as though that’s the only thing that defines them, now.

“Dante, look at me.”

Vergil’s soapy hands slide down and cup his face, and Dante’s eyes reluctantly flutter open, his heart giving a sharp throb in his chest when he sees his brother looking at him with such open tenderness in his gaze.

“It’s going to be okay,” says Vergil. “Nero might not understand the nature of our relationship, but he said that he will do his best to try.”

“He said that we were sick fucks.”

“He was angry and confused, and said things that he didn’t mean,” Vergil reassures, but Dante’s unconvinced.

“I don’t know. Sure sounded like he meant it to me.” Dante swallows hard as he reaches up and curls his hand around his brother’s wrist. “We should’ve been more careful…” His voice is a whisper underneath the roar of water, and his eyes slide off Vergil’s face.

“Dante, did you really think that we could hide it forever? Eventually, the truth would come out,” Vergil says. “We shouldn’t be ashamed for what we are, for loving one another.”

Dante raises his eyes to Vergil’s. “That’s not it, Verge… I’m not ashamed of us. It’s just— Nero wasn’t ready to find out.”

“Pray tell — when would Nero be ready? In a year? In five? Can one ever truly be ready to find out that their only blood relation seems to be in an intimate relationship with one another?”

Dante frowns slightly. “Well, I guess when you put it like that…”

“I am glad that Nero now knows the truth. While I must admit that perhaps this wasn’t the best way for him to find out, at least we can be open with him about our relationship,” says Vergil, as his soapy thumb traces over Dante’s cheek. “We do not have to hide the truth of ourselves before our family.”

“He really said that he’ll try to understand?” Dante asks after a moment, a kernel of hope igniting beneath his ribs.

Vergil smiles, soft and sweet. “Yes, Dante. He really said that.”

Dante lets out a breath of relief, and he steps forward, his arms winding around his brother’s waist as his face falls into the wet curve of Vergil’s neck. His brother’s arms instantly wrap around him, and just like that, Dante feels like the world is right again.

“I really thought we lost him, Verge,” Dante admits in a strained whisper after some time.

Vergil scoffs gently, his hand stroking down Dante’s back. “I don’t believe that’s possible. That child is even more stubborn than the both of us combined.”

 

*

 

While Nero might never fully understand how Dante and Vergil can love each other the way that they do, what he does understand is that they _do_ love each other. He supposes if he had to choose between them fucking each other or trying to kill one another, maybe it isn’t so bad that they’ve chosen to embrace the other instead of embracing violence.

So long as Nero never has to see it again, or _hear_ it, he guesses it’s something he can learn to live with.

After all, all weird families are alike; his just happens to be really fucking weird, but at least he’s got a family.

That’s gotta count for something.

 

*

 

The next time Nero decides he wants to visit, he picks up the phone and dials a familiar number.

The phone rings twice, and then a familiar voice answers with, “Devil May Cry.”

“Hey Dante. I’m coming over. Keep your pants on, alright?”

There’s a long stretch of silence, and then Dante’s laughter bursts over the phone line, loud and unabashed. “Yeah, don’t worry, kid. I’ll make sure to let your dad know. Pick up some beer, will ya?”

“I always do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked this mostly crack fic with an emotional twist ending.
> 
> This fic was made possible by the amazing members of the [Spardacest Discord Server](https://discord.gg/8X5nVW3) who really helped to contribute ideas and help developed the plot. It would not be possible without them, so thank you so much, guys! You inspire me endlessly and are largely the reason why I try to produce as much fic as I do! 
> 
> A special thanks to [Auntarctica](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Auntarctica), as her depiction of Vergil greatly influenced my own. (She writes the best Vergil ever. Highly recommend checking out her fics!) 
> 
> If you liked what you read, please consider leaving a kudos or comment -- it would be greatly appreciated. <3 
> 
> You can follow me [on Twitter @sub_textually](http://www.twitter.com/sub_textually) or [on Tumblr @subtextually](http://subtextually.tumblr.com). Slide into my DMs and say hi! Send an ask if you'd like -- I love chatting about DMC and making new friends. <3


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